


Vineyard Vibes

by Overturned_Decent



Category: Rise (TV 2018)
Genre: But whatever, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, VERY INTENSE INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA, all i did to proofread was fix the spelling mistakes, and more detailed!!!, because I'm gay and am invested, have fun, i wanted the word of your body reprise scene from the finale to be longer!!!, i word for word go through their lines during woyb (reprise) so like, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself, not a panic attack...but simon freaks out for like two minutes, sorry if this is like Unreadable or smth lol, there you go, uhhh idk confrontation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overturned_Decent/pseuds/Overturned_Decent
Summary: “Oh, I’m gonna be your bruise..” And….and this was it. There was no more putting it off, no more delaying, no more waiting around in fits of anxiety and worry. He was close enough now that he didn’t have to move his body in the slightest, just a subtle turn of the head, and then- boom, there it would be. He would be kissing a boy. On a stage. In front of an audience.Or, a much more detailed version of Word Of Your Body Reprise from the finale





	Vineyard Vibes

**Author's Note:**

> raise your hands if the finale of Rise MESSED! YOU! UP! 
> 
>  
> 
> this is my literary first work for this fandom,,,,,so be gentle,,

Simon was positively  _ terrified _ . He could feel the solid wood of the stagedoor behind his back, the slightly scratchy material of the pants he wore. Normally, these things- the backstage arra, the feeling of a costume against his skin -they would be comforting. But not now. Not when, in almost seven minutes, he would walk onto that stage and kiss a boy in front of his parents and an entire audience. He’d been out there already, he  _ knew _ how full the crowd was. A large cast equals a large audience, and that should have thrilled Simon, but it only served to slicken the back of his neck and palms of his hands with sweat. 

 

Inhale, exhale. He switched his microphone from his left to his right hand, wincing at the dewy, moist print his hand had left around the smooth, black metal. He shivered despite the hot jacket he wore. 

 

His eyes caught on the stage, on the actors currently saying their lines. The show really was doing well, and he had to admit, he really hadn’t been sure that it would. Since all the changes Mr Mazzu had been forced to make to the show, Spring Awakening had felt like more like a spring  _ disappointment _ . One of the things Simon had admired about the show- and Mr Mazzu -had been the incredible depth and truth it displayed. Simon loved that he was a part of the show, he just….wished he could have been a more, er-  _ straight _ character. If he was totally honest, Simon knew exactly why playing Hanschen freaked him out so much. But that would mean admitting a truth about himself that he didn't even want to consider. 

 

He looked to the stage again, looking away sharply as his eyes caught on a figure parallel to him in the opposite wings. He felt suddenly sick. The scene was nearly over, and then he’d-he’d have to- with  _ Jeremy _ . 

 

It wasn't even Jeremy’s fault, not really. Simon supposed it was more what Jeremy represented. More what Simon tried not to feel when he had to be around his scene partner. 

 

His stomach flipped over sickeningly. Simon smoothed his hair, and following his instincts, started towards where he’d be entering from. Mr Mazzu had somehow materialized a few feet away, intently watching the show. Simon couldn’t get air into his lungs properly, his eyes locking onto the spot he’d soon be standing, singing, sitting, kissing. He came up to stand next to Mr Mazzu, shifting uncomfortably. 

 

His voice sounded shaky. “I can’t do the scene,” It was abrupt, random, and didn’t probably convey what he felt  _ exactly _ , but at the same time, it was true. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not with his family in the audience, not with all these people…...he felt dizzy. 

 

“What?” 

“With Jeremy. The scene. Y’know..” he gestured without purpose, as if that could clear up what he meant. 

“We’ve rehearsed this Simon, I know you can do it.” Mr Mazzu told him, giving Simon his attention. Simon couldn’t look at him. 

“My-my  _ parents _ are out there….and I thought, I thought I could, but I keep thinking about-about…y’know..with him, and I just,” His voice got caught, and Simon realized that his eyes had filled with tears. He blinked rapidly, though that just made them burn more. “I just can’t...I just, I got this part, and I said I could do it, and I-I  _ can’t _ , I don’t want to disappoint you.” His voice was hoarse, and his knees felt weak as he watched his scene get closer and closer. 

 

“Simon, no one is going to be disappointed. Not me, not Jeremy,” Simon blinked away the tears. They had to go away. “Not the rest of the cast, no one. Okay? I would never want you to be in a situation where you felt like you had to do something you weren’t okay with. Now listen to me, Simon.” Simon looked up at his director, swallowed thickly. “You do whatever version of the scene  _ you’re  _ comfortable with, okay? You still have to go out there and say the lines, and sing, but if what you’re okay with means you stand five feet away from Jeremy the whole time, I..I’m sure he’ll understand. Alright?”

“Al-alright,” Simon nodded, steadying himself. 

“Now get to your place.” Mr Mazzu gave him a confident smile, and Simon nodded, smiling back. 

 

He stood at his entrance. He fixed his jacket. He made sure he was holding the mic in his right hand so that he could gesture with his left. Simon’s pulse was thundering, and he was certain that if were to raise his mic up to his chest, the consistent  _ thumpthumpthump-thumpthumpthump _ would fill the air of the auditorium.  _ No, Simon _ he told himself.  _ Be Hanschen. He’s seductive, confident in his sexuality, and flirty. Be him. You are him.  _ Simon could be confident. He could be seductive, and flirtatious, and more forward than normal. He could be that. 

 

He whispered a short prayer under his breath: “God, I am about to do something that scares me. Now, now more than ever before, I need you here with me. I need you to help me get through what scares me, and to come out stronger on the other side of this. I’m afraid of what this play will do to my family, to my relationships with my parents. Please let me do well, and please let me not be so afraid. Amen.” His nerves began easing away. This was just theatre, just acting- this wasn’t real. He could pretend. 

 

He watched Jeremy enter, trailing his feet with a sort of easygoing swagger, like he just happened to end up there, by accident. He dropped to the ground, closed his eyes, relaxed. This was Simon’s cue. He raised the microphone to his lips, stepped out under the lights. 

 

“Those bells, so..” he pretended to search for the right word, ignoring how Jeremy jumped out of his daze upon Simon’s entrance, just like they’d practiced. “So peaceful.” He said. Jeremy looked at him, putting a sort of playful nervousness into his voice. 

“I know?” He laughed a little, uncomfortably so. Simon walked closer, slower still, but at an even pace. 

“Sometimes,” Jeremy continued, letting himself light up like a child watching fireworks. Simon supposed in this scenario,  _ he _ might be Jeremy’s fireworks. “When it’s quiet in the evening like this, I imagine myself as a country pastor.” He smiled, as though the thought gave him joy. Simon raised his eyebrows amusedly. This was easy. These were just lines, just talking. No kissing. He could do acting like this in his sleep. 

“With my red cheeked wife, my library, my degrees!” Simon came closer, making sure his steps were slow, even, purposeful. Where Ernst was all nerves and erraticness, Hanschen was sure, and calculated. Simon forced himself into that persona, even though that was about the opposite of how he was feeling. 

“You can’t be serious.” Simon said flatly, smirking ever so slightly. A few people in the audience chuckled, which Simon took as a win. Heaven knows that he was going to need their support with what would follow. Jeremy’s expression drooped, and he fixed Simon with a disappointed look. Simon didn’t hold his gaze, instead gesturing to the audience. 

“Really, Ernst, you are  _ such _ a sentimentalist!” He pauses, turns his head so that he stares Jeremy down. “Those pious, serene faces you see on the clergy? It’s all an act.” He snaps his microphone-less fingers for emphasis. “To hide their envy.” He allows the words to sink in for a beat, before continuing, putting a desperate sort of intensity into his words. 

 

“Trust me, there are only three ways a man can go! He can let the status quo  _ defeat him _ ,” a beat “like Moritz. He can rock the boat- like Melchior -and get  _ expelled _ .” He takes a half step closer, and leans down. He’s much closer to Jeremy now, and he can feel their closeness bubbling in the space between them like electricity. His next line is quieter, more personal. He’s not speaking to the audience anymore. 

“Or he can bide his time and let the system work for  _ him _ ...like me.” he ends it teasingly, with a small shrug, like he’s just  _ casually _ this clever. He straightens his back, and starts in a the slow half circle behind Jeremy, his finger tips prickling as they brush against his scene partners shoulders. 

 

“Think of the future as a..a pail of whole milk.” Simon began his second monologue of the scene. “One man  _ sweats _ and  _ stirs _ , churning it into butter. Like Otto, for example.” He lets a pout slide onto his face, talking dramatically, gesturing at the audience. “Another man frets! And  _ spills his milk _ , and he cries all night. Like Georg.” The audience gives him a few scattered chuckles again, as well as Jeremy, though that was in his blocking. The more lines he went through, the closer he was to when he’d have to….kiss Jeremy. In front of everyone. 

 

Or not. He could just not do it. 

 

“But me,” Simon put the thoughts aside, letting his reflex spew out the long sense memorized words. “I’m like a pussy cat. I just skim off,” a pause “the cream.”

“Just skim off the cream?” He’d been talking for so long, he forgot that Jeremy had a line. 

“Right.” He smiles. He’s almost in his place for the start of the song. His nerves are pulled taut, and he can feel fear creeping down his spine, and tingling in his hands, making the microphone tremble slightly. 

Jeremy looks confused. “But what about the..?” Simon laughed, like Jeremy not understanding was the funniest thing in the world. Or at least, slightly comical. 

Jeremy frowned. “You’re laughing.” he points out, nailing the embarrassed yet annoyed tone that the line had always conveyed to Simon. He didn’t answer, just smirked at Jeremy again. The familiar harpsichord sounding note progression began playing, and Simon inhaled, exhaled. He could do this. 

In an even more flustered, embarrassed tone:

“What?” a pause “Hanschen?”

 

Now. It was time. Simon was sending tiny prayers up to God that he wasn’t visibly shaking. 

 

_ one  two three  four one two  three four- _

 

“Come cream away the bliss,” he inhaled. “Travel the world within my..lips.” If the audience hadn’t realized before, by God they did now. Simon let himself actually look at Jeremy now, which he’d been mostly avoiding doing, and as soon as he met that pair of misty gray eyes, he remembered why. Because now he couldn’t bare to look away. 

“Fondle the pearl of your distant dreams. Haven’t you heard the word of your body?” They were like deep, silver magnets, and endless pool of ashy, smokey gray- and they were glued to his own. It was like some other force had them connected, and no power within or elsewhere with Simon could do anything to pull his gaze away. 

 

He licked his lips, inhaled, sang:

“Oh, you’re gonna be wounded,” He started lowering himself to the ground. The bomb in his chest was ticking to the metronome the song had placed in his chest, and there was less and less time by the second. “Oh, you’re gonna be my wound.” He sat, inched closer. Jeremy was so close, it caused an almost physical  _ ache _ in Simon’s body. 

“Oh, you’r

e gonna bruise, too…” he was going to do it. He reached out gently, carefully placing his fingers around Jeremy’s hand, and raised it to his lips for a split second touch- just like in the original blocking. It scared Simon to his very core, but he wasn’t going to let such an important truth of the show go to waste because it made him  _ nervous _ . Simon was far more professional than that. 

“Oh, I’m gonna be your bruise..” And….and this was it. There was no more putting it off, no more delaying, no more waiting around in fits of anxiety and worry. He was close enough now that he didn’t have to move his body in the slightest, just a subtle turn of the head, and then- boom, there it would be. He would be kissing a boy. On a stage. In front of an audience. 

 

Except, his head wasn’t moving. It was just frozen, staring at Jeremy, with the most intense eye contact he thinks he’s ever had in a romantic scene. The energy between them felt electric, it was a wonder that there were no literal sparks bouncing around in the air. 

 

Just  _ lean in, _ Simon. He thought to himself. And so he did. He shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see, and then he kissed Jeremy. 

 

And then Simon promptly forgot every single one of his lines. The only thought he had in his head was something along the lines of: “hhhhhhooooOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLYYyyyyy SSSsshSHSIT!!!!!!!!!! HOLYLLLYLYL SHIT!!!!” or however one would think that. Because it was good. It was really good. The music in the background that Simon normally loved didn’t even register in his ears, all he heard being his own blood rushing. 

 

He felt the exact moment that the bomb in his chest blew up, because suddenly, it felt like Simon was breaking apart from the inside out, but in the  _ best possible way _ . And Simon didn’t want it to stop. And that was starting to worry him. As he let his mouth move against Jeremy’s, he was now gaining the ever present reminder that he Needed To Pull Away. But that just wasn’t happening, at all. Suddenly, he felt the very subtle feeling of a tap against his knee, which had to have come from the person-  _ the boy _ whom he was currently kissing; obviously, I mean, there was no one else on stage! It had to be Jeremy! And Simon was very aware that it was a signal to Stop, because they had to keep going, and Simon felt like the world was suddenly tilting as he disconnected them. He thought he was going to be sick. He thought he could stand up and start flying around the room. 

 

“Oh God,” Jeremy whispered, dropping their eye contact for a second to look out into the audience for emphasis, before returning his stare. And for a second, Simon forgot that that was his actual line, and he thought that Jeremy was breaking character. Right, the show. Simon had a line that he was supposed to say. Oh my God, what was his line?

“Yeah,” is what he ended up saying. That definitely wasn’t right, but to be honest, Simon just needed a timeout to go and collect his thoughts. Every part of his body was racing by, leaving no room for anything logical or coherent. He just kissed Jeremy Travers on stage, in front of a massive audience, and he really, really,  _ really _ liked it. 

Jeremy looked lost for a second, before saying:

“When we look back on this, years from now, what will...what will we think? About this.” Right! Simon was supposed to have said something about that. Everything felt so chaotic, and unorganized, and Simon wanted to go hide in a dark room. 

“Uh, well, I’m sure that it will seem unbelievably...beautiful..” Simon had no idea what he was even  _ saying _ . Were these actual lines? Was he just spouting nonsense? He honestly wasn’t sure. 

“And...in the meantime?” Jeremy asked him, timidly. 

“Why not?” Simon said, and he was certain if not his face, then his voice was giving away exactly how...how feverish he felt in that moment. He got to kiss Jeremy again, and this time, the script directly called for it to be more passionate. And Simon….Simon was suddenly feeling much less worried. He hastily cupped his hand around Jeremy’s jaw, and pulled him against his lips, catching them, and once more, completely losing himself in the moment. 

 

This was definitely NOTHING like kissing Gwen or Anabelle. He had always thought Gwen was a good kisser, she could certainly stage kiss well, and Anabelle...well, she was definitely good as passionate kissing, but  _ this _ ..this was some whole new level of kissing that Simon hadn’t even realized was  _ possible _ . He felt like he’d hardly even skimmed the surface of what kissing could be, and suddenly, now more than ever, he felt like he needed to know. 

 

They pulled apart in what felt like only seconds to Simon, and that was probably all that it was. 

Jeremy sounded breathless as he said:

“On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps we would only...talk.” It should have been a funny line. The audience should have laughed at it. The audience was dead silent. And for the first real time, Simon was pissed about that. If it were Robbie and Lillette stage kissing, and she had said that, he was certain they would have found it hilarious. And that made Simon  _ very  _ angry. 

 

It was a good thing he was supposed to sound mad in his next line. He rolled his body away, making to leave, and put hurt, and anger, and bitter disappointment all rolled into his words. “So you’re sorry then? That we-”

“No!” Jeremy interrupted, grabbed at Simon’s forearm. “No, Hanschen, I..I love you. As I have never loved anyone before.” Simon could feel his temper settling slightly, and he moved closer again, shrugging and making himself smile.

“And so you should.” He ended it with a poke to Jeremy’s arm. It just seemed fitting. 

 

The harpsichord started up again, and Simon intertwined his left hand with Jeremy’s right. And then Jeremy lifted his microphone, and Simon just let himself enjoy it. Jeremy’s voice was so nice. There was so much about him that was just….nice. 

 

“Oh, I’m gonna be wounded. Oh, I’m gonna be your wound.” HIs voice sounded even prettier tonight, right then, with Simon holding his hand and staring- no,  _ gazing _ into his eyes. He felt like he was losing touch with reality. He needed to sing. He was supposed to sing now. 

“Oh, I’m gonna bruise you.” They both sang the words together, and for the first time in so long, Simon felt  _ peaceful _ . 

“Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.” The final line they sang had a small choreographed movement. Together, they raised their intertwined hands, and Simon leaned forward, while Jeremy leaned back. The hands moved against Jeremy’s shoulder, and Simon then spread his hand over it. He used this as leverage to pull Jeremy towards him once more, and let their lips touch, much gentler, much more easy. And it was somehow, even better than the other two. 

 

The instruments trailed off, as Simon felt the burning on the right side of his body ease away as the hot stage lights did. Now fully in blackout, Simon pulled away, and stared at the dark form getting to its feet. He did too. Their hands were still together. 

 

“Simon?” He felt goosebumps rise up on his skin, and chanced a look at Jeremy. “You’re shaking.” The other boy whispered, as they made their way through the darkened backstage. 

“I am?”

Light came up on the stage behind Jeremy, which lit up not only Robbie and Lillette, but the features on Jeremy’s face, which were, at this time, twisted into a look of concern. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured. They hadn’t stopped walking, and were now shrouded once more in the darkness that the back curtain created. They were directly behind the band. 

“I’m..okay.”

“Are you sure? You looked really freaked out on stage.”

Simon felt immediate horror. “I did?”

“Well, to me you did. But I was also, like, right next to you. And I like to think I know you well enough to tell,” he added, somewhat bashfully. 

“You probably do,” Simon responded, once more, feeling a similar ache. They’re hands were still together. They hung in between them like a bridge, as they stood across from one another. 

“Simon, I-” he paused, searching, reaching. “I need you to decide what you want. I need you to do that. I can’t keep getting my feelings messed with like this. Either-either you don’t like me, and I….leave you alone, or, you do like me, and-”

“I do.” Simon was just as surprised as Jeremy at the words that came out of his mouth. He blinked. Recalculated. “Er, I’m pretty sure I do. I just, okay. Okay. If I promise not to shut you down, can we talk after the show?” 

Jeremy nodded slowly. “Okay, I guess.”

“I just want us to have enough time to actually figure stuff out, you know?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Cause I feel like we’ll be too rushed here.”

“Right.”

“Also, I feel like it’s too open back here to effectively ta-” Simon was never able to finish that thought, because his weird, senseless rambling was cut short by Jeremy swiftly closing the distance between them. Simon melted. He released Jeremy’s hand for the soul purpose of being able to put it around his neck, and  _ wished _ he wasn’t holding his microphone so that he’d have another free hand to touch Jeremy, to have less space between them, to close every bit of distance. Because that was what he wanted to do. And the ugly yelling and growling that his conscience frequently did at times like these- in a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father’s -had softed to hardly a whisper. Because he liked this. And he…...liked Jeremy. And Simon thought that maybe, maybe he could actually be okay with that. 

At that moment, Jeremy moved his hand into Simon’s hair, fingers messing with it, and Simon felt his knees turn to liquid, nearly collapsing beneath him. He wasn’t sure how long they had been kissing, but he was absolutely certain that if it ended, it would not be his doing. 

A sudden memory flashed through his mind. Him and Jeremy in the parking lot, the questions (mostly Jeremy), the deflected answers (mostly Simon), and the kiss. That had technically been their first one. But Simon didn’t think he liked that very much. He didn’t like how scared it made him. If he was totally honest, he still felt that fear. But Simon thought that maybe it didn't always have to be like that? He wasn't sure, and he had also completely lost his train of thought because he felt Jeremy's tongue swipe against his lips. He slid his own hand up into Jeremy’s hair, and his stomach went through some kind of complex gymnastics routine as he felt the other boys lips move against his again.

The sudden, heavy beating of the drum set seemed to bring Simon back down to earth. He pulled away abruptly, his once standstill thoughts now racing by a mile a minute. Jeremy’s eyes were wide and his face was tinged pink, even in the low light. Simon was sure that he was much worse for wear.

“Um. We should-should probably, uh,” he gestured blindly behind him. Jeremy nodded, his eyes far away.

“Yeah um. Yeah.”

Simon nodded in agreement, despite having been the one to suggest it in the first place. 

Simon turned, inhaled shortly, and attempted to flatten his hair a little. He could feel Jeremy’s eyes om the back of his head, and walked quickly into the stage left wing. There was a small group of girls (Anabelle included- Simon made a mental note to avoid them) sitting on the floor following along with a script. Michael stood nearby, looking slightly shaken. He noticed Simon and Jeremy enter, and rushed past the girls on the floor, and just past Simon. He heard a whispered “Jeremy, I’ve been looking for you. I need advice,  _ right now _ .” Simon turned, caught Jeremy’s eye as Michael dragged him out the stage door. The blond held Simon’s gaze a second, before softly shutting the door, and breaking Simon out of his haze.

Right. The Show. 

Clark was reading through his own script nearby, and Simon wandered over to him. 

“Hey, could I check something really fast?” He asked, and Clark grinned.

“Yeah sure.” 

“Thanks,” he took the script, flipping back a few pages to get to his scene. What line had he missed? Right, the one about years later, or something. God, he had been a disaster. Well deserved embarrassment began twisting around in his stomach like a snake.

“So, that was some kiss,” Clark said, breaking the silence. Simon started. Clark had scene them?

“Wha-what kiss?” His voice shook, he was over. Done. Ruined. Clark was going to tell everyone that Simon Saunders was g-

“The three ones with Jeremy? On stage? What other kiss would I be talking about?”

Oh right. That one.

“Oh, um, yeah. Duh.” He laughed nervously. 

“I was just gonna say good job. We all knew how stressed out you were about that.”

“You-you all.. _ knew _ ?”

Clark laughed. “Obviously. You may be a good actor, Simon, but you're terrible at hiding your emotions. You wear them on your face, plain as day.”

“Thats  _ why _ Im a good actor..” he mumbled, stuffing the script back into Clarks hands. He knew the guy didn't mean any harm- he was probably trying to be  _ nice _ -but Simon couldn't help but take it as an insult.

Clark opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when Anabelle suddenly appeared next to them. Once again, Simon felt sick. He couldn't look at her. 

“Simon. Can we, uh, talk for a sec?”

“Um, isn’t there a group scene coming up..?”

“It won’t take long.” Clark gave Simon a look, and Simon followed Anabelle out of the wings and..

...they immediately crashed into Michael. He was right outside the door, with Jeremy behind him. Simon caught the blonde’s eye almost reflexively. However Jeremy seemed more focused on something unknown to Simon. 

“Sorry,” Anabelle apologized to Michael, and Michael brushed it off, breezing past Simon into the wing. Simon felt his side burn as Jeremy walked past.

The door shut. Simon swallowed. Anabelle didn’t say anything at first. She leaned against the wall. He stood next to her. 

“Simon…” she started, paused. “Simon, are you gay?” And then. Simon was malfunctioning. She knew she figured it out she saw she knew she knows she figured it out she knew she knew she knew she knew she knew-

“Simon?” She looked concerned now, but She Still Knew. 

“I-“ It felt like a hundred degrees in the narrow hallway, and Simon was certain the ground was disappearing from underneath him. The world tilted. Spun. Swirled. 

“Hey. Hey, it's okay. Simon? Are you hyperventilating?” He felt her grab onto his arm, and then he was sitting, but the floor was still gone, and why wasn't he falling yet? Was he hyperventilating? Was he going to faint? 

“Im. Um.” He said, which was probably as coherent as it could have been. “Um,”

“Im sorry, I wouldn’t have said anything if I had known you would..” she bit her lip. “Seriously, Simon, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, but it sounded breathy and came out more like a wheeze. 

“Im really sorry.” 

“It's not, um, your fault. Anabelle.”

“I brought it up, I shouldn't have thrown it at you like that.”

“But this is- all of- all this is my fault.” He stressed. He had mostly come back to his senses. And now that he wasn't falling, he should probably. Tell her. Something. 

“I was- I did a stupid thing. I asked you out when I knew that I wouldn't- that I couldn't- and then I..I led you on, and I hurt you, and made so many people feel shitty. And I just- its...I was shitty.”

“Its….well,” She screwed up her face a little. “It's not  _ okay _ , but I think that I sort of understand? You dont….you are gay, aren’t you?” Simon stared at the linoleum floor between his legs, which were bent at the knees and serving as arm rests for him. He knew his silence was enough of an answer. “Yeah, I….I thought so.” She sighed.

“I'm sorry.” Simon whispered. 

“Oh my God, I'm not mad at you for that! I’m just mad that I didn’t realize, and I dunno...that I liked you in the first place.”

“Don’t feel bad, no one knew. I didn’t even- well, I didn’t want to believe it. But I think I- I think I still knew, regardless.” 

She nodded.

He asked something that was starting to worry him. “How did you, you know, guess?”

“When you were on stage with Jeremy. You looked….scared shitless, if I’m honest, but also, like, undeniably happy. And you never kissed me like you did him. Then it just sort of...came up in my head. I put together more clues and just..you know.”

“You have, um, a better  _ gaydar _ than I do.”

“Yeah, I dont think thats how it works.” They both laughed, and Anabelle bumped her shoulder against his, smiling at him.

“Are you mad at me?” Simon asked, dropping her gaze. She shrugged.

“I don't know. I was. I am less, now that I know that there was a more valid reason for you being an ass.”

“Yeah, thanks. “ she smiled again. “And um, Anabelle?”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Her face dropped. 

“I- okay. But why? If you don’t mind saying.”

“I just..I can’t. Not now. Not yet.”

“That’s fine. Your secrets safe with me.” He felt a sudden rush of affection for his ex-girlfriend. He bumped his shoulder against hers. She did it back. They were quiet a moment.

“Let’s go back in,” she said, getting up.

“Okay,” he stood, followed her through the door, found Jeremy’s eyes automatically. There was a questioning expression on his face, and Simon mouthed  _ ‘later’ _ in response. 

  
And. He was feeling okay. Simon Saunders was feeling  _ okay _ . And maybe, he thought, just maybe....he could stay like this, feeling okay, for a little longer. Ignore the bad for awhile. 

He wanted to try that. 


End file.
